


Count and Countess Lecter

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hannibal returns home, post-season 3, with his wife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Hannibal Lecter was coming back home.Chiyoh did not expect this day would come.





	Count and Countess Lecter

She turns the key in the rust-covered lock and the heavy chain slides slowly from the iron bars, landing on the ground with a loud clink. The gates to the Lecter Castle open for the first time in decades.

Chiyoh sensed a change coming weeks before the letter. There was a shift in the air currents and unknown plants bloomed by the fountain; long green stems with small, white flowers, smelling like rotten wine and confusing the fireflies. She was wary and did not touch them, suspecting they were poisonous.

The letter arrived on a foggy morning, white envelope tucked awkwardly in the box on the gate, rusty from years of neglect. She did not hear anyone delivering it, it might have materialized out of thin air, like a lost spirit whose arrival it announced.

Hannibal Lecter was coming back home.

Chiyoh did not expect this day would come. She did not presume him dead, doubting anything or anyone could defeat him, but thought the demons of his past would keep him from returning here.

On the day of the arrival, she waits by the gate, the rifle in her hands, looking at the empty road leading towards the estate. Perhaps the letter was nothing more than a dream, she thinks, awaiting with trepidation on what might transpire.

The spirits become reality as the black car appears in the distance. It turns and passes through the gate, Chiyoh follows behind. The car stops by the main entrance and a man gets out, all too familiar face, but looking differently than the last time she saw him. No scars cover his face and his eyes no longer look lost; he appears peaceful and _happy_. Not an image of a man on a run, not an emotion she would ever associate with Hannibal Lecter.

Hannibal goes to the other side of the car and opens the door, offering his hand to the mysterious passenger. Chiyoh did not anticipate he would bring company and her confusion increases when a woman appears; blonde hair, steely blue eyes, wearing a red coat, the shade of which reminds Chiyoh of fresh blood. The woman she had met before, Hannibal’s psychiatrist, or so she claimed. Chiyoh senses it was a great understatement.

“Hello Chiyoh,” Hannibal speaks first.

“Welcome home Count Lecter.”

“No need for formalities. We have known each other since we were young.”

“Yes, but now you are the rightful head of the household,” she presses on, still perplexed by the situation; her eyes dart towards the woman standing next to him.

“This is my wife, Bedelia,” he proceeds with introduction, noticing her stare,” who, I believe, you have already met.”

“Yes,” the blonde woman adds, her stare unfaltering, inquisitive eyes assessing her, just like she did back in Florence, “She thought I was a bird in a cage.”

“You did not clarify,” Chiyoh counters.

“I was curious. I wanted to see what you would do,” her tone calm, but the eyes still enquiring.

“Fly away or dash myself dead against the bars?”

Bedelia does not reply; the corners of her mouth tilt, the tiniest of smiles, the red of her lips matches the colour of her coat.

Hannibal’s attention turns to the building, standing as impressive as it was when he was a boy. His gaze moves to the towers and windows, as if expecting for the ghosts of his past to appear, but finds nothing and looks back to his wife.

“It needs renovation,” he says, almost timidly.

“It’s beautiful, “she comments, following the trail of his gaze and Hannibal smiles. He offers her his arm and they walk through the main door, Count and Countess Lecter arriving home.

Chiyoh hangs the rifle on her shoulder before joining them, she decides to keep it near just in case.

 

The house is silent, as though suspended in a state of permanent inertia, and mostly empty with a few pieces of furniture in place, all covered with heavy cloth. The crystal chandelier above their heads remains intact, but provides no light.

“We need to restore the electricity first,” he says, apologetically, “I hope you do not mind the provisional conditions.”

“As long as you don’t mind boiling the water for my bath,” she replies, her eyebrow raised playfully. Chiyoh’s eyes immediately shift to Hannibal, waiting for his demons to show their faces, but he merely smiles again before replying. “Anything you wish,” Bedelia strokes his cheek with her finger, a gesture of appraisal or affection, Chiyoh cannot tell.

Later, they have their supper in the dining room. The long table has been cleared, the polished wood reflecting the flickering candles placed on top of it, roasted venison steaming on the plates in front of them. Hannibal regards the food before taking a tentative bite.

“Is something wrong?” Chiyoh remains on her guard.

“Hannibal is wary of food he did not prepare,” Bedelia offers an explanation,” And meat he did not obtain himself,” she adds with an amused smile. Chiyoh watches with surprise as the woman toys with the beast, but Hannibal’s only response is a soft smile directed towards his wife. It does nothing to lessen her confusion.

“How did you know I was still here?” she asks instead.

“You were not around after my escape, I presumed you would return here.”

“I am sorry I did not watch over you,” she wonders if that is what brought him back here.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I wasn’t your responsibility. And I do not need you to watch over me,” he turns his gaze to Bedelia once more and something passes between their eyes. Chiyoh does not understand, but this woman has somehow managed to cage the beast.

“This is your home, you are welcome to stay, but if you wish to leave, you are free to go,” Hannibal says, looking at her again. Chiyoh ponders his words with caution; the cage has been opened, but does not mean freedom. She remains silent.

 

The Count and his wife take residence in the master bedroom, where the grand four-poster bed still stands. They offer Chiyoh an option to stay in the main house, but she declines. She would rather be a bird in her own cage than willingly share one with a beast.

 

The first constructor arrives the following morning, assessing the building and work needed. Many visitors follow. The news of the return of Count Lecter and the new Countess seemed to have spread amongst the villages. Curious eyes wanting a peek, many bearing gifts, as though trying to gain favours with the new gods on the mountain. Or prevent their wrath. Hannibal extends a warm welcome to all of them; his Lithuanian remains perfect, charming every person. His wife is always by his side and although she does not speak the language, she appears to really enjoy hearing him talk in his native tongue. Meaningful glances pass between them from time to time and seem to convey entire conversations, not privy to anyone but them.

 

Chiyoh goes hunting the next day, being overwhelmed by people and longing for the solitude and peace of the deep forest. She finds a flock of wild birds in an opening, waits patiently in the cover of the trees and sets her rifle on the target. Just as she is about to pull the trigger, a horse’s neigh disturbs the silence and causes the bird to fly away. She turns to seek the source of the disturbance and sees two horses approaching. Hannibal and Bedelia are a vision of royalty in black riding jackets and boots; his horse chestnut, hers white, both a generous gift.

“I am sorry if we startled you,” Hannibal offers an apology.

“You did not startle me, but you scared away the birds.”

“I am sure such an excellent hunter as yourself will have no trouble obtaining another,” he says with reassurance.

“Perhaps you would like to try,” Chiyoh says boldly, still unnerved by the sudden interference, extending the rifle in Hannibal’s direction.

“Unfortunately, I am not a great marksman, “he admits reluctantly, “but Bedelia is.” He turns his attention to the woman; Chiyoh’s eyes follow, at once guarded.

“This gun belonged to your uncle,” Chiyoh notes cautiously; she does not wish to give her weapon to someone she barely knows, especially one as inscrutable as this woman.

“A perfect fit for a Countess then,” Hannibal presses on and Bedelia smiles, evidently enjoying her new title. He gets off the horse and she follows, removing her gloves and giving them to her husband for safe keeping.

There is nothing more to say and Chiyoh hands her the gun, then steps away. Bedelia takes the rifle, hand gently grazing its forearm and inspecting its weight, before reloading in one smooth motion and taking her position, eye on the scope. She acquires her target and waits patiently. Chiyoh’s eyes follow the length of the rifle and rest on the target, but Hannibal’s remain fixed on Bedelia, a gaze so intense it’s fervid, yet it does not disturb her. The bird is preparing to take flight and Bedelia pulls the trigger, hitting her mark perfectly. A pleased smile appears on her face as she hands the gun back to Chiyoh, yet it is nothing compared to the look of awe on Hannibal’s face.

“It seems that I am providing the food tonight,” she adds nonchalantly and they both walk away to retrieve the bird, leaving Chiyoh to ponder on what has just occurred.

 

She returns later that evening to find Hannibal waiting for her in her quarters. Her hand instinctively tightens around her gun as she notices the unexpected visitor.

 “I was wondering if you have any pelts,” Hannibal asks.

“Excuse me?” she does not know what she has expected, but not this.

“Any furs,” he clarifies,” The nights get cold here and I do not want Bedelia to be uncomfortable. A temporary solution until we solve the heating problem.”

“Yes, of course. I will bring them later.”

“Thank you,” he says and leaves.

 

When she enters the castle, the most unusual sight yet meets her. She finds the couple in front of the fireplace; flames flickering brightly, Hannibal half naked, Bedelia wrapped in a warm bathrobe and sitting between his legs. His fingers comb gently through her wet hair, separating the strands and helping it dry. The exceptional intimacy of the scene strikes her. These two people are alone in the world of their own.

 “Thank you Chiyoh,” Hannibal says, noticing her standing there and gets up to take the furs.

“I can bring them to your bedroom,” she offers, feeling like an intruder and wishing to leave.

“That won’t be necessary,” he takes them from her hands and turns to his wife with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

The last thing Chiyoh hears as she makes her way out is Hannibal’s low voice whispering _Countess_ , the slick sound of lips against skin and the woman’s soft sigh. She is long gone before the loud moans echo on the high ceiling.

 

The morning rises and the ambers of fire have turned to ash, but Hannibal and Bedelia remain sleeping there, skin against skin, limbs entwined. The unexpected image startles Chiyoh, it is not her intention to stare, but there is something enrapturing about the laying couple. They remind her of two wild cats reposing together, especially Hannibal. His chest rises slowly, like one of a sleeping tiger; Bedelia’s head rest safely on top of it. Suddenly she stirs in her sleep and his arms wrap tighter around her, pulling her closer.

No, not caged, this woman has tamed the beast.

 

Later the same day they visit the only place they haven’t yet explored, the one place Chiyoh thought Hannibal would never set foot in, the family cemetery. It is a small, grassy clearing behind the castle, headstones now overgrown with vegetation; apart from one that Chiyoh kept cleaned all this years, her responsibility and charge. Now she watches from a distance as the couple approaches the spot. They stop and Hannibal kneels. His fingers slowly trace the letters carved in stone and he bows his head down. His chest moves up and down in short breaths as if the beast was finally rising in search of vengeance and blood, but when he turns his head there are only tears streaming down his face. Bedelia kneels next to him, his arms curls around her and she draws his head to her chest. They linger in the moment, until Hannibal’s breathing returns to normal and he looks up at her; his eyes unexpectedly calm with relieve.

With the final farewell look at the headstone, Hannibal takes Bedelia’s hand and they leave.

 

Chiyoh finally meets the woman alone, standing by the window overlooking the fountain. The white flowers continue to bloom there, more fragrant then before, as if nourished by some unknown source.

“How did you tame him?” Chiyoh asks all of the sudden, no longer able to restrain her uncertainties.

Bedelia turns, surprised by her presence or rather the question.

“I did not tame him. It was never my intention to do so,” she replies, watching her reaction.

“Did you not come here to banish his darkness?”

Countess Lecter looks at her curiously, with a smile slowly rising on her lips, like a sleek panther, ready to devour a bird. Chiyoh realises that Hannibal is not the person she should have watched closely.

“No, I came to live in it.”

**Author's Note:**

> The last exchange regarding the darkness was shamelessly appropriated from a poem about Hades & Persephone, what else would you expect from me?  
> Count and Countess Lecter, how perfect it is, so them. I couldn't get this idea out of my mind and just had to write this. It's a bit different, but I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is love.
> 
> You can always find me on tumblr for daily bedannibal goodness.


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